Answer
by Storm Midnight
Summary: Spain asks Romano a very important question, one that the fiery South Italian is very reluctant to answer. A pattern begins to develop, and Romano finds himself dependent on Spain's chase. Spamano, don't like, don't read.


**First Spamano! I LOVE this pairing! I randomly started writing this two days ago, and figure "What the heck, I'll post it!" I love writing Romano's character, I hope you all enjoy it!**

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><p>It was only a matter of time.<p>

Romano watched a certain Spanish bastard play his guitar while the other nations clapped to the beat.

Any second now.

Suddenly the instrument was passed off and the South Italian was being pulled to the center of the group, _"Baila conmigo..."_ An all too familiar voice whispered in his ear.

Like Romano had a choice in the matter.

The music was fast, the steps were faster. It was some strange mix of flamenco, tango, and samba. Ridiculously fast, strangely sensual, undeniably Spain. Romano easily matched the older man's pace, well used to this occurrence. Whenever the Latin countries came together, this happened without fail. He was twirled, pushed and pulled to the rhythm of the guitar, the entire world was a blur except for two sinfully green eyes.

Begging.

Pleading.

Every time.

Without fail.

Romano face remained passive, refusing to answer those eyes. The other countries cheered at the show, knowing what Spain was after, hoping for a resolution. Italy drew the song to a close, his fingers getting tired. Romano pulled himself away and walked off, keen on leaving as soon as possible. He grabbed a glass of wine—Italian of course—and headed outside as to not be disturbed.

These nights were so routine.

_Tre._

_Due._

_Uno._

Cue guitar.

Immediately the music picked back up, just as predicted. Someone stared singing, probably Mexico or Peru. Romano let out a sigh as he leaned on the balcony. He stared at his wine glass for a moment before draining it in one gulp, maybe if he got drunk the night would end sooner. With a scowl he set the glass down, it was unlikely.

Why did he keep coming to this things?

Oh right, Italy would never let him hear the end of if he had to go alone...

Shouting was heard behind him, Chile must have started another fight. Probably with Panama... Again. Seriously, did these people have nothing better to do than to repeat the same night over and over? Romano let out another sigh, he knew they did it all for Spain's sake. Until Romano gave that man an answer, the cycle would continue.

He glanced at his watch, one minute left. He listened for the tell-tale steps and the opening of the sliding glass door.

_Tre._

_Due._

_Uno._

...Nothing.

Romano straightened and turned around, perplexed. He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to enter the balcony at this very moment. That bastard was supposed to be here! Like an actor who had missed his cue, the Italian stared futilely at the door, dumbstruck. Beyond the glass he saw the others drinking and dancing, oblivious to the change.

Where the hell was Spain? !

Part of Romano felt relieved, while another part felt furious. A third felt like he had been abandoned, confusing him the most. He reentered the party, pushing past other nations, looking for a flash of vibrant green.

"Fratello!" Italy suddenly slung an arm around his older brother's shoulder. The cheery brunette let out a hiccup, "Y-You just missed it! I—" He hiccuped again, "—Drank m-more than Costa Rica!" Another hiccup, "Aren't you p-proud of me?" The younger Italian could barely stand, he clung to his brother for support.

Italy had never been drunk at the party before.

What the hell was going on? !

"Oh... Romano... I don't feel so good..." Italy promptly threw up in the nearest trash can, forcing the two to call it a night.

They had never left the party early, nor had Italy ever left without saying goodbye to Spain. Tonight was not normal at all... Romano threw the car into drive and reluctantly sped off with his now sleeping brother in tow.

He stopped in front of Germany's house, Romano could barely believe he was doing this. He dragged Italy to the front step and jammed the doorbell.

"Open up, you potato eating bastard!" The stunned face of said German greeted him as Romano all but threw his brother into the house, "Look, I know that I'm not supposed to trust you but I gotta do stuff and he's drunk and..." He let out a groan of frustration, "I swear to God if you do anything with him I will castrate you!" Not giving the blonde a chance to answer Romano shouted, "I'll be back in the morning!" And climbed back into his car. He pulled a dangerous U-Turn, nearly totaling Germany's jeep. He floored it, intent of getting back to the party ASAP.

He was going to get to the bottom of this, come hell or high water!

The car screeched to a halt in front of Spain's villa and let himself in the house (it was always unlocked during a fiesta). The guitar was heard amongst the rest of the blaring music, and a chorus of drunken voices rose from within the noisy chaos.

"Draw a circle, there's the earth,  
>Draw a circle, there's the earth,<br>Draw a circle, there's the earth,  
>My name is—" There was a great clamor of noise as twenty or so people shouted there respective titles.<p>

"Ah... Isn't it wonderful,  
>To see the world with the stroke of a single brush?" Another garbled line and the shouting and names ended the song, followed by several of the nations tripping over themselves or passing out where they stood.<p>

Now where was Spain...?

He glanced around the main room, Brazil and Argentina had taken charge of the night, cranking up the music and coaxing the other nations out of their drunken stupors. It was incredible, the tolerance their kind had for alcohol. Romano embarked on his quest, poking and prodding each of the party-goers on a certain Spaniard's whereabouts. They all either shrugged or directed him to another country, who would either shrug or direct him to someone else, and so on...

Eventually Ecuador grabbed the Italian by the shoulder and pointed in the direction of the balcony. Beyond the glass of the sliding door Spain leaned against the railing, framed in silver moonlight. His back was to the fiesta, his eyes to the sky. A sudden nervousness seize Romano, causing him to hesitate. With a oh-so-helpful shove the young brunette was forced out the now open door and stumbled into the balcony rail will a loud, "Oof!" With a squeal and a click, the door was shut behind him.

Those bastards...

Spain gave no inclination that he had noticed Romano's arrival. The Italian righted himself and leaned over the rail to get a look at the older man's face. Green eyes were pensive, reflecting the stars. The younger man stood back up and looked to the sky, trying to figure out what the Spaniard was staring at. Thousands of stars dotted the night, and the moon was bright and full. The villa was right by the ocean, giving the view an ethereal beauty. Romano coughed awkwardly, not liking to be the one breaking the silence, "The sky... It looks really pretty tonight..." 'Really pretty?' What was he, four?

"I guess..."

The South Italian blinked incredulously, "You... Guess?"

The older brunette raised and lowered one shoulder. Again the silence stretched on between them, the noise of the party long forgotten. Spain's gaze finally dropped from the stars to the ocean below. Green eyes were downcast, a small frown splayed across his lips. It had to be done. He refused to meet Romano's eyes as he spoke.

"...It's okay to say no, you don't have to worry about hurting my feelings..."

The truth came crashing down on the Italian with the force of a grand tidal wave. So that's why Spain didn't come to the balcony, that's why there was such a sudden change of events, that's why this night ended so differently. Romano let out a small gasp.

Spain had given up.

Said brunette straightened into a standing position and put on a brave smile, but that didn't stop a small flash of pain from showing as he awaited the final rejection. Romano clutched his hands into fists as his lips mashed into a hard line. Dammit... He was not getting upset by this, he was not—! His shoulders shook, why the hell was he the one crying? The Spaniard tilted his head in confusion, "Romano...? Are you—?"

_"B-BASTARDO!"_ Tears poured furiously down the young Italian's cheeks. "Y-YOU WEAK, COWARDLY, PATHETIC B-BASTARD!" He rubbed one of his eyes, "Y-you're not supposed to g-give up on m-me... Dammit, you're n-not allowed to give u-up..."

Miraculous green eyes blinked in shock, "Really? ...Why?"

Romano flushed a delicate shade of red, "B-Because you're Spain! You're the most s-stupidly determined p-person since my brother!" The blush darkened, "And b-because if you give up then I have to be the one to try and move things along and y-you know that I'm not good at that!" An even deeper shade of red engulfed the Italian's face, "I can't plan parties or work up the courage to ask you to dance or play the guitar even half as good as you do. Hell, I can't do anything romantic without screwing up or falling flat on my face! I'm a failure when it comes to relationships and expressing how I feel even though I'm trying really hard right now to tell you that I feel the same damn way about you _and for the love of God will you just kiss me before I say something else that I'll regret?"_

"Romano..." Spain seemed extremely hesitant, "What are you trying to s—?"

The Italian grabbed the older man by the collar and furiously mashed their lips together. They kissed until the need for air broke them apart. "I'm saying yes, you idiot! I..." The blush returned as Romano buried his face in the older man's chest, _"...Anch'io ti amo..."_

Spain let out a cheerful laugh, "What was that, _mi querido?_ I couldn't hear you!"

"I SAID I LOVE YOU TOO! DAMMIT DON'T MAKE ME SAY IT AGAIN!"

There was a moment of complete and utter silence, then the warm arms of his Spaniard hugged the younger brunette tightly, he could hear a heart thundering, lungs shuddering, "W-What's wrong...?"

"...Never been so happy..." Spain murmured into his Italian's hair. He cupped Romano's face within his hands, He kissed the younger man's forehead, _"Lovino..."_ The tip of his nose, _"Mi Lovino..."_ Those blushing cheeks, _"Mi amor..."_ And finally his lips, _"Mi único..."_

"B-Bastard... When did I give you permission to use my first name?" Romano weakly tried to be angry, but the emotion died within his fluttering chest.

"When you said yes..." The older man wrapped the Italian in his arms, rocking back and forth.

Instantly the young man began to protest, "Spain—!"

_"Por favor..._ Call me by my name."

Romano let out one final sigh, "Antonio. There, I said it. Happy now?"

Spain's chest rumbled with laughter, _"Siempre, mi querido..."_ He kissed the top of the Italian's head, _"Te amo..."_

xxxxx

It was only a matter of time.

Romano watched a certain Spanish bastard play his guitar while the other nations clapped to the beat.

Any second now.

The South Italian walked over and all but threw that damn guitar at his brother, "Play," He commanded as he pulled his lover to his feet, staring into those beautiful green eyes. He leaned forward and whispered into the elder's ear, _"Balla con me."_ The Spaniard chuckled and pecked the younger man on the lips.

Like he had a choice in the matter.

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><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_**Baila conmigo: Dance with me**_

_**Tre, due, uno: Three, two, one**_

_**Bastardo: Bastard**_

_**Anch'io ti amo: I love you too**_

_**Mi querido: My dear**_

_**Mi Lovino, mi armor, mi único: My Lovino, my love, my only**_

_**Por favor: Please**_

_**Siempre mi querido, te amo: Always, my dear, I love you**_

_**Balla con me: Dance with me**_

**Fail ending is fail, but I'm pretty sure I got all of the Spanish right (since I study it in school) and I apologize for any fail Italian (although there is very little).**

**So thank you for reading! Please review!**


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